


Trick or Treat

by vtn



Category: Green Day, The Network (Band)
Genre: Breathplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-30
Updated: 2005-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fink pays Billie Joe a surprise visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick or Treat

Billie Joe undid the laces on his Converses, almost-numb fingers starting to warm up slightly in the blast of the tour bus’s central heating. He’d been out to dinner with Mike and Tré to celebrate a successful tour, and then the next day they were all heading to Los Angeles for the premiere of _Bullet in a Bible_ in theatres. Adie had stayed home with the kids; their school was having a Halloween party and a parade and everything, and as much as Billie had wanted to stay, it was important to the band and the record company that he be at the premiere. Dinner had been great, but he missed his family and despite being full of food, he still felt empty.

And cold. It was very, very cold. So he’d left the dinner early, and now he was going to change into some old sweats and climb into his bunk. Mike and Tré would probably be drinking for hours—they were going to a bar afterward but Billie had refused, saying he just wasn’t in the mood.

He finished with the first shoe, tossed it to the floor, and moved on to the second one, working slowly in his apathy. It eventually dropped with a soft clunk, and he started to pull a sock off.

Someone knocked on the door. Billie spat a bothered “Fuck.” and went over to answer it, continuing a stream of curses under his breath. Couldn’t a guy get a moment of peace? He pushed down the handle, leaned on the door until it swung forward, and stepped back. When he saw who his visitor was, he stumbled, almost tripping over his own feet.

Standing in the doorway, smirking that ridiculous, pompous smirk of his, was a familiar figure clad in a suit made of what must have been red electrical tape, completed with a ski mask and a devil tail, pointing straight into the ground. His name was bitter on Billie’s lips.

“Fink.”

Fink’s smile widened, baring bright white teeth.

“Trick or treat.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” Fink said with a pout and a little cock of his head, “Was I interrupting something?” Billie was about to let him know he had been getting undressed, but that would probably give Fink ideas, and anything that gave Fink ideas needed to be avoided at all costs right now. So he just scowled at his doppelganger, not amused.

“Really, dear, I’m sorry if this is a bad time, but I’ve been waiting for you out in the cold for ever so long.” Fink stepped further into the tour bus, pulling the door shut with an audible click behind him. “Ah, undressing, were we? I’m sure I can offer some assistance.” Fink was about to take another step forward, and Billie sprung backwards into the center of the bus.

“Look, Fink, this is my bus, and you’re trespassing, and I’m going to call security on you if you don’t get the fuck out.” He pointed a shaking finger at Fink, swallowed, and narrowed his eyes.

“No need to throw a tantrum, Billie Joe. Is this how you treat everyone who comes around to say hello?” Billie swore to himself that he was going to kill that asshole. So fucking stuck up, so full of himself. He clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Bus,” Billie growled through his teeth, “Or I. Will fucking. Kill you.” Fink gasped in mock surprise.

“Oh, he’s threatening me now! How adorable! You know I only came here with one simple request, and I think it would be much easier if we talked this out like civil human beings.” Fink shrugged, that irritating pout still on his lips. Billie wanted to smear that stupid black lipstick all over them, make it look like a bruise on that formerly flawless complexion.

“Get OUT!” he yelled, anger rising up in him and sending off little jolts through his nerves. There was just something about Fink that pissed him off in more ways than he could handle.

“Billie, babe, calm down. It’s going to be okay.” Fink reached out one of his gloved hands to stroke Billie’s hair. Billie swatted it away before it could reach him.

“I’m _not_ your _babe_ ,” he said, voice rising again, body trembling with rage. He raised a fist to sock Fink. He wanted to break his teeth, smash his fucking face. He wanted to kill him. He really did. Fink brought a hand up to his face.

“Please just _listen_ to me for _one moment_.” Billie gritted his teeth so hard he could feel the scrape of enamel almost grinding off. Fink stood there in the bus like it was his own, devil tail swinging and eyes gleaming.

“Billie Joe Armstrong. You know you really are beautiful like that. So _angry_ , so _tormented_. I’ll give you a chance to let it out. You can scream for me all you like. You know I love to hear it. Just lay down on that bunk there and I’ll take _care_ of you, babe. That neck of yours will look so pretty with bite marks, won’t it?”

“ _Look_ , Fink. I am _not_ going to—going to have _sex_ with you. You’re _disgusting_. Don’t _touch me_.” He felt pressure build up behind the corners of his eyes. Something like melted pitch stewed in his stomach. Fink smiled and pulled the curtain between the bunks and the bus seats, and the enclosure started to dim in front of Billie’s eyes.

“You want me,” said Fink, matter-of-factly. But Billie sure as hell didn’t. The darkness became worse, and the air swam. His chest tightened and he had to gasp for breath. His words came out clipped and rushed.

“Fink, you do not want to be around me right now. If you do not get out of here, I will fucking kill you. You are dealing with a man who has a panic disorder. You do not want to see me in one of my bad moods.” Billie’s heart raced; his short breaths started to catch up to his pulse. Fink showed all his teeth, grinning hungrily.

“Oh, but I _do_!” he said, the gleam in his eyes becoming brighter.

_Oh, shit. What have I just told him?_

Before Billie could make a move, Fink had him down on the bed. _Get off me, get off me, don’t touch me_ , echoed in his head, but he could barely breathe, let alone speak. And suddenly Fink was pulling his tie tighter, tighter, tighter. Everything was dark, and there was a ringing in Billie’s ears, and Fink was going to fucking kill him if he didn’t do something! He flung a punch at Fink’s face, and Fink grinned even as the fist struck him, having almost no effect.

Everything went black for a moment, and all Billie could hear was that ringing in his ears, eating away at his insides.

Then the darkness washed away, and Billie could breathe again. Fink had loosened the tie, and now he was pulling it off, now he was swiftly undoing every button of Billie’s shirt, kissing Billie’s cold flesh and making it rise in goose bumps. He was still gasping and shaking, and he still felt dizzy. Only one thought was in his mind—Fink was going to kill him and he was powerless.

Now Billie’s pants were undone too, and his socks and boxers ripped off, and somehow he was naked on the bunk. A whimper—almost a squeak—escaped his constricted throat, and once again he tried to sock Fink in the face. But the demon held his hands down on the bunk mattress, and Billie’s eyes shot wide open. He could feel the color rushing out of his face as Fink forced a finger up into him.

It was about then that he became aware of a couple of things. For one, Fink was constantly whispering to him in an almost chant, “Relax, take it easy darling, this will only hurt a little bit,” and for another, he…no, he didn’t _like_ this but his erection said otherwise and this combined arousal and panic was actually getting to him somehow. Another finger and Billie groaned, long and low.

“Stop,” he managed, but part of him didn’t want it to stop.

“Oh what was that, Billie Joe? You want me to _stop_?” Billie held his breath as Fink’s fingers slid back out. He panted, suddenly unsure. “I’m giving you a choice,” Fink insisted, but of course there was no choice.

“OhGodNoDon’tStop,” Billie said in one breath, his voice tiny and the ringing in his ears coming back. “Fink!”

And then Fink grinned, and with a single fluid motion of his hips _he_ was inside Billie Joe, and Billie remembered that he didn’t want to be here and this was wrong and Fink was going to hurt him, going to kill him. He was about to scream but Fink clamped a hand over his mouth and he was screaming into a scratchy glove. He screamed into the dampness from his own breath, screamed over and over until his throat burned, screamed wordlessly until somehow the screams formed into Fink’s name.

He _hated_ Fink. Never was his hate stronger than that very moment when he came, and his screams turned into scratchy moans, still repeating that same name, that same accursed name. Never was his hate stronger than when Fink kissed him like drawing poison from his lips, and then sunk those fucking perfect teeth into his neck and left a burning rosy mark.

Then Fink was gone. He always left like that, as if he’d effervesced. Or maybe it was more like the Cheshire cat—Billie could still see a flash of that wicked grin as Fink closed the door behind him and in a voice that Billie could barely hear, whispered,

“Happy Halloween, Billie Joe.”  



End file.
